


Yes, Doctor

by Deathtouch



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Gaping, Anal Play, BDSM Scene, Clothed Male / Naked Male, Doctor/Patient, Dom/sub Undertones, Enemas, Established Relationship, Humiliation, M/M, Masochism, Medical, Medical Device, Medical Examination, Medical Experimentation, Medical Kink, Medical Massage, Medical Procedures, Mild Painplay, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Playing Doctor, Prostate Exam, Prostate Stimulation, Rough Sex, Sadism, Sex, Sexual Roleplay, Situational Humiliation, Speculum, Vibrators, medical fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 15:05:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14621238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathtouch/pseuds/Deathtouch
Summary: ☛ in which stiles has a doctor's appointment. sort of.Doctor Alan Deaton was sitting behind the receptionist counter looking as calm, cool, and as devilishly handsome as ever. He was wearing his white lab coat. He glanced up casually and offered a subtle smile.“Well, if it isn’t my favorite patient,” he greeted warmly.Stiles felt his heart skip a beat.





	Yes, Doctor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LaughingCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingCat/gifts).



> thanks to the lovely [LaughingCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingCat/) who was kind enough to donate to Planned Parenthood for the F*CK 2K17 Charity Month, and for giving me free reign to write some pure medical filth! and thanks to the nice event runners for putting this charity month together. i was really honored to get to write something for LaughingCat for a good cause, and i hope everyone enjoys this story!!
> 
> also thank you to my amazing beta [SubwayWolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf) who always comes through for me! he worked his magic on this fic and made it even better. thank you for everything you do, wolfu!! 
> 
> lastly, stiles' age isn't specified in this fic. it takes place while he's in college, but it references a relationship and sex that occurred before then. in my mind he was over 18 for all the referenced sex and sexual activity, but it's not clearly stated either way. if possible underage or large age gaps are something you're uncomfortable with than this may not be the fic for you.

“Hey, where are you headed?” his dad asked from the couch.  
  
Stiles stopped in his tracks like a deer in headlights. He hadn’t thought to come up with an excuse. He’d spent the last semester at college coming and going from his dorm as he pleased. The only excuses he had to come up with these days were about why his assignments were late. As if it wasn’t weird enough to be home for winter break, now he was back to sneaking out of his room and tip-toeing around his whereabouts with his dad.  
  
“Out,” Stiles said as casually as possible. “C’mon, I haven’t been home since August. I wanna see the old stomping grounds.” He tried not to cringe. _The old stomping grounds_? Who even said stuff like that? Was he really so out-of-practice at bullshitting?  
  
Sheriff Stilinski looked incredulous. “Now? It’s almost eight o’clock. The roads are icy-”  
  
“Dad,” Stiles began. “I don’t want to blow your mind or anything but I’ve been going out well past eight o’clock for the last four months. I think I’ll survive tonight, too.”  
  
Stiles’ dad looked at him for a moment, considering. “What are you doing out that late at school?” he asked, only half kidding with his suspicion.  
  
“I’ll be back later.” Stiles laughed, both playfully deflecting the question and effectively ending the conversation. He turned to go, crossing the kitchen as he called out one last thing. “Don’t wait up!”  
  
Before his father could answer, he was out the back door. Stiles locked it behind him and hurried off to his Jeep. It was definitely cold out, and the soft flannel he wore wasn’t nearly enough to shield him from the wind chill. He put the heat on in his car before anything else.  
  
Despite his Dad’s meddling, he was right about the roads. Stiles was careful as he pulled out of the driveway. The last thing he needed was to get in a car accident after he had waited four whole months to see Doctor Deaton. Then again, if he did crash he might just end up at the hospital. He tried not to smile. He knew he shouldn’t think things like that.  
  
For all the time he was gone, Beacon Hills still looked exactly the same. The roads he took were misty and dark. The woods, though leafless because of the winter cold, were dense and thick. Stiles could see the perfect sickle of the moon in the sky, glowing white in the darkness. The back roads felt familiar in a comforting way, and the drive to the vet clinic was like second nature.  
  
He pulled up front, gravel crunching under his car tires. It was after regular hours but there was still a light on in the lobby. The warm glow emanating from the plexiglass door made Stiles’ stomach twist in a delicious knot. He was quick to kill the engine and hop out of his Jeep. Cold air hit him hard. He hustled in through the main door, bell jangling.  
  
Doctor Alan Deaton was sitting behind the receptionist counter looking as calm, cool, and as devilishly handsome as ever. He was wearing his white lab coat. He glanced up casually and offered a subtle smile.  
  
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite patient,” he greeted warmly.  
  
Stiles felt his heart skip a beat. He’d kept in contact with Deaton over the last four months. Usually it was late night calls when he was stressed from school work or just in need of a little release.  
  
Stiles would phone up the clinic and relay his ‘symptoms’ to the good doctor. _It’s my throat_ , he would whisper into the phone, lights out in his dorm room so he could pretend he was somewhere else. In an exam room, or a hospital bed. Or, _It’s my stomach, doc. It’s my kidneys this time.  
  
_ Of course, good ole Doctor Deaton on the other end would tell him what they’d have to do. ‘We’ll need to perform esophageal dilation,’ or ‘A large cleansing enema will cure your cramping,’ or ‘We’ll have to check your prostate.’ Stiles came harder hearing Deaton describe medical procedures on the other end of the line than he did watching porn.  
  
Stiles approached the receptionist desk, unable to hide his shit-eating grin. He leaned on the counter with his elbows. He wanted to tell Alan how much he missed him. Wanted to lean in, kiss him hard on the mouth, and taste his spit. He couldn’t, though. Not yet. It would ruin the game.  
  
“I hope you don’t mind me scheduling an appointment so last minute. I didn’t know I’d be back in town so soon.” Stiles could smell Deaton from here. The barely-there hint of clean cologne, the sharp stringent smell of antibacterial hand sanitizers.  
  
“Nonsense.” Deaton stood up. “I’m glad I could fit you in.” He walked along the waist-high divider that kept the waiting room separate from the back offices. He unlatched the gate there and swung it open. “Come on back.”  
  
Stiles had been through hell and back in this vet clinic. From strange supernatural occurrences to near-death experiences, he’d done it all. None of that was on his mind now, though. Instead, he thought absently of the last time he was here. Doctor Deaton had given him one last thorough examination the night before he left for college. That little examination had put him through hell and back too, but in a much more satisfying way.  
  
Deaton lead the way back to their usual exam room. Technically it was for cats and dogs, this being a vet clinic and all, but it was very easy to pretend otherwise.  
  
The exam room was exactly the way Stiles remembered it. The stainless-steel examination table in the center of the room was big enough for large dogs and the occasional Stilinski. The counter along the wall had its jars of swabs, cotton balls, and a box of latex gloves. Doctor Deaton had even gone the extra mile and pulled tools from the operating room; scalpels and forceps and other dangerous-looking metal objects displayed on a tray. They weren’t really going to use them but bringing them out helped to set the mood.  
  
Stiles could feel his blood thrumming through his veins. Butterflies fluttered around in his stomach. He was so excited and ready for this. He hopped eagerly up on the steel exam table, shifting to get comfortable. He tried not to squirm around too much, or bounce his heels against the base of the table, or tap his fingers on the steel, or start saying every little thing that was on his mind.  
  
“Are you here for a physical? Or do you have a complaint today?” Doctor Deaton asked.  
  
He went to the counter and unlocked it, pulling out a large Manila file. Inside were pages upon pages of handwritten notes. A record of ‘doctor’s visits’ from Stiles’ past. The pages looked awfully official, full of neat cursive describing all the procedures Stiles had endured in this very room.  
  
“Uhm,” Stiles ended up bouncing his heels against the base of the table anyway, dull thuds rhythmically clanging out with each hit of his shoe. “I mean, there is something wrong,” he said awkwardly. Even though this was all fake, he still managed a blush.  
  
Doctor Deaton set the file on the counter and turned to Stiles. He reached out, setting a hand on his thigh. “Relax,” he said. Instantly, Stiles’ feet stilled. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”  
  
“It’s embarrassing,” Stiles said, heart beating a little faster.  
  
“I’m a Doctor, Stiles. I’ve seen it all,” Deaton told him.  
  
“It’s just that... sometimes when I want to go to the bathroom... I can’t,” Stiles explained further, completely fabricating these symptoms.  
  
“No?” Doctor Deaton raised a curious eyebrow. “Feeling constipated?”  
  
Stiles flushed with warm shame at the idea of admitting such a thing to his doctor. Even though this wasn’t real, even though they had done it a hundred times, he still felt the same delicious humiliation as ever. “No, it’s not that,” Stiles said, trying to keep his nerves from his voice. “It’s like when I piss it won’t come out.” Again, he blushed hard. Just saying something like that out loud felt like a violation of privacy, even if it wasn’t true.  
  
“Ah,” Deaton nodded in understanding. “You have difficulty urinating then? Do you often have to strain to release any liquid?”  
  
Stiles nodded.  
  
“A weak and slow urinary stream?” Doctor Deaton continued.  
  
Stiles nodded again.  
  
“Does the urinary stream start and stop?”  
  
“Yeah,” Stiles said. “All that stuff.”  
  
Doctor Deaton sighed gently. “I’m sorry to tell you this, Stiles, but I think you’re having problems with your prostate again.”  
  
“No,” Stiles groaned pitifully, a remarkable feat of acting. It was more fun to play the reluctant patient. “Doctor, I thought the last procedure was supposed to cure me.”  
  
Deaton returned to the Manila file folder, opening it from the back so he could refer to the last page in the log. Of course, the both of them remembered precisely what that ‘last procedure’ was. Stiles had been stretched open when a thick speculum while Doctor Deaton stimulated his prostate with a vibrator until he damn near passed out. How exactly this was supposed to cure him was anyone’s guess, but those were the details they glazed over.  
  
“That’s right,” Deaton said, eyes scanning the file. “We performed a manual vibratory massage. I’m surprised it didn’t work.”  
  
“Are you going to have to do it again, Doc?” Stiles asked anxiously.  
  
Doctor Deaton looked up at him, a calm expression on his face. It was unfair that he was so handsome. “I think we might.” He said. “Let’s just take things one step at a time. I’ll need to examine your prostate first.”  
  
The words sent a trill of pleasure down Stiles’ spine. He could feel blood rushing to his cock, stirring it to rise. It excited him like this was their first time.  
  
Oh, he had been a mess that first time. Even after weeks of planning he had come into the vet clinic trembling with nerves, shaking all over, constantly breaking the scene to comment on how weird all this was and to ask if he was doing okay. It was a miracle Alan had put up with him back then.  
  
They made it all the way through a benign physical exam that came to its conclusion when Doctor Deaton checked him for a hernia and Stiles orgasmed unceremoniously. He was so embarrassed after that he almost didn’t come back, but the embarrassment fueled him. Stiles loved the humiliating burn of shame.  
  
There had been a hundred appointment since then. More physicals, rectal exams, soapy enema treatments, even exciting things like Doctor Deaton inserting catheters and once he administered an endoscopy. None of it ever got old.  
  
“A prostate exam?” Stiles said fearfully, as though he had never heard of one before. “Will it hurt?”  
  
“No,” Doctor Deaton said warmly. “I’ll take very good care of you, Stiles. Why don’t you remove your clothing from the waist down, and I’ll prep an enema.”  
  
Stiles’ stomach twisted with delight, butterflies fluttering like crazy. “An enema? Do I need one of those?”  
  
“Yes, just to make the exam go a little easier for both of us.” Deaton told him.  
  
Stiles did as he was told and slid off the table to undress. He knew he only needed to take his pants and underwear off but he found himself unbuttoning his flannel shirt anyway. As he undid the buttons, Deaton retrieved a small enema bulb from its place in the cupboard. Stiles frowned a little, wishing he would get a bigger one than that. He didn’t say anything though. Doctor Deaton was in charge, he knew what kind of enema to administer.  
  
“How’s college been for you, Stiles?” Doctor Deaton asked casually.  
  
Stiles folded his shirt and set it on the table. He had a plain white t-shirt on underneath but he felt a little more bare and vulnerable now. He liked that. “It’s okay I guess.”  
  
“Do I need to update your chart on any smoking or drinking?” Doctor Deaton asked. He stood before the sink and turned on the warm handle of the tap.  
  
“No, still no smoking or drinking.” Stiles told him, slipping off his shoes. He had never really done either before and didn’t want to start any new bad habits when he already had so many.  
  
“No illicit drug use?” Deaton continued.  
  
Stiles actually laughed. The only drugs he took were prescribed medications from a real doctor, not a pretend one like Deaton. “No drug use either.” He toed off his socks and bent down to ball them up. The tile floor was cold on his feet.  
  
“Are you sexually active?” Doctor Deaton asked, feeling the tap water with his finger. When it was warm enough he began to fill the red enema bulb.  
  
Stiles swallowed hard, pausing as he unzipped his pants. It was just a scene. He didn’t have to tell the truth. In fact, they had played games before where he said he was voraciously sexually active and Doctor Deaton had to cure his overactive libido with medical treatments. In other games he said he couldn’t get it up and needed help from the good Doctor to fix his broken sex drive.  
  
Stiles knew he could say whatever he wanted but he chose to be honest instead. “Not sexually active either,” he said, lowering his pants.  
  
He had gone to one frat party on campus where a few of the fraternity brothers were gay. Apparently if you were looking for some guy on guy that was the place to hook up. He’d even ended up making out with an upperclassman, some dude on the college wrestling team who had charmed Stiles by lifting him over his shoulder and carrying him like he weighed nothing.  
  
Stiles had gotten all hot and bothered asking the guy about the physicals and exams the wrestlers had to deal with if they wanted to make the team. They had gone together to a quiet bedroom upstairs in the frat house. Stiles begged the guy to play doctor with him to which he surprisingly agreed to but it all went south pretty quick.  
  
The wrestler’s idea of ‘playing doctor’ meant telling Stiles that he was sick and needed to suck a big fat dick to get better. There wasn’t an ounce of realism in it. Stiles tried hard to get him to play along better, but the guy just wanted his cock sucked. Stiles bailed and left him hanging. He still felt kind of bad about it. It just wasn’t what he wanted. He needed this. He needed realistic medical situations and conversations. He needed props and latex gloves and the smell of cleaning supplies. He needed Doctor Deaton.  
  
Deaton hummed thoughtfully. “Probably for the best, considering that prostate of yours.”  
  
Stiles smiled. Ah, right. His pesky prostate; the reason he was here. He folded up his jeans and then removed his boxer briefs. Deaton had seen him naked plenty of times before but there was something uniquely vulnerable about being half naked. It didn’t help that his cock was at half-mast. He cupped himself in his hands to hide it.  
  
The tap suddenly quieted as the faucet was shut off. The red enema bulb was completely full; beads of water were tricking down its sides. Doctor Deaton left it there on the counter while he dried his hands and pulled on a pair of light blue latex gloves. The snap of latex against Deaton’s wrist nearly made Stiles moan; he could literally feel his cock grow stiffer.  
  
“Alright, Stiles. Please climb up on the table here and lay on your side,” Doctor Deaton ordered.  
  
Stiles did as he was told. The steel was chilly on his bare skin but he liked the sharp surprise of it. He got on his side, feet hanging off the end of the table just slightly. It really was meant for dogs and not humans but it mostly worked.  
  
“Pull your knee up to your chest.” Deaton ordered.  
  
Stiles did. He was no longer holding his cock and balls in his hands. Instead he used one arm folded under his head as a pillow. He was facing the counter, staring at the sink and the cotton swabs. He could feel a goofy grin of euphoria crossing his features. He tried not to smile or anything silly. It was just that he had missed this so much.  
  
“I’m going to prep your anus with some medical-grade lubricant,” Doctor Deaton explained, because he knew Stiles liked hearing these kinds of things aloud.  
  
He used one latex-gloved hand to lift Stiles’ cheek. “Nice and pink.” He commented thoughtfully before squirting some lubricant onto Stiles’ waiting hole. Stiles gasped. He barely had time to flinch before a gloved finger was circling his entrance. It smeared slick lube in a circular motion.  
  
“Bare down like you’re having a bowel movement,” Doctor Deaton ordered.  
  
Stiles did, and the moment his hole loosened it was promptly stuffed full with one of Deaton’s fingers. Stiles moaned. It was gone too soon. Not even any playful twisting or stretching, just the perfunctory administration of lubricant.  
  
“You’re a little tighter than I remember,” Deaton commented.  
  
Stiles felt his face flush. It’s not like he had anywhere in his dorm he could keep sex toys. He had only had his own fingers in his ass for the past four months and even that was on rare occasions. He mostly got off by jacking it to phone sex with Doctor Deaton.  
  
“Sorry,” Stiles found himself apologizing involuntarily.  
  
“No need to apologize, Stiles,” Deaton told him. He stepped into Stiles’ field of view and placed the tube of lubricant down on the counter beside the metal tray full of tools. “It just might be a little uncomfortable during your prostate exam, that’s all.”  
  
Stiles felt a burst of pleasure rush through him. He bit his lip to keep from groaning. Doctor Deaton knew just what to say to get him going. If he wasn’t hard before he definitely was now.  
  
Deaton took up the enema bulb and disappeared around the back of the exam table. “I’m going to administer the enema now,” he said. “Just relax as the water fills your rectum.” He lifted Stiles’ ass cheek again and pressed the tip of the enema bulb to Stiles’ slicked hole. Stiles didn’t need to be told to bare down; he did it all on his own. The bulb’s tip was small and provided little pleasure or stretch going in. It was easily swallowed by his body.  
  
Stiles took a deep breath or two, waiting to feel something. He supposed he was used to soapy enemas with lots of painful glycerin that burned. The warm water felt like nothing flowing into him. He was almost disappointed.  
  
“Doctor, I don’t think it’s working,” he said tentatively.  
  
Apparently, the bulb was fully emptied into him because Doctor Deaton removed the tip with a wet suckle. Stiles clenched tight to avoid any spillage.  
  
“It’s working,” Deaton told him. “Can you hold that Stiles?”  
  
“Yeah.” Of course he could. Stiles had taken a four-liter enema before, and even retained it for a full five minutes before the pain became unbearable. That had been on one of Doctor Deaton’s more sadistic days. This bulb was by no means small but it was nothing in comparison.  
  
“Good. Roll over into your back for me.” Deaton ordered. “I’ll apply some external pressure.”  
  
Stiles bit his lip and turned onto his back. He could feel the water sloshing around inside of him with the motion and it gave him a sudden queasy feeling. His cock stood tall at attention, more obvious now than ever. Stiles pointedly ignored it. He laid in a perfectly prone position and stared up at the ceiling at the bright examination lamp.  
  
Deaton changed out his gloves for clean ones that had no trace of lubricant on them. The snap of a new pair of gloves made Stiles stifle a groan. He closed his eyes, making fists on the table beside him to try and keep himself in check.  
  
“There we go.” Doctor Deaton leaned over Stiles’ body. He too ignored the obvious erection before him and folded up the fabric of Stiles’ shirt, revealing his soft belly. He was sparsely covered in a trail of brown fuzzy pubic hair and dots of freckles marked his skin. Deaton began palpating Stiles’ lower abdomen.  
  
Stiles gasped at once. The pressure on his intestines made the water squish towards an early escape. He nearly spilled the enema all over the table. He grabbed Doctor Deaton’s arm by the wrist to stop him.  
  
“Doctor,” Stiles breathed. “Be gentle with me.”  
  
Stiles locked eyes with Doctor Deaton and saw the lust there. He was enjoying this. Deaton had his own wants and interests too. Stiles had learned over time that Deaton liked making his patient squirm. He got off on it the same way Stiles did. That was a big part of why all this worked.  
  
“My apologies,” Deaton said softly. “I’ll be more careful.” As soon as Stiles let go of his wrist, he began his palpations once again. True to his word, he was more careful this time. He was very gentle and soft with each press of his fingers into Stiles’ abdomen.  
  
It wasn’t much easier on Stiles. Any added pressure, no matter how small, made him feel like he would lose control and spill at any moment. He closed his eyes tight and tried to breathe through it. He could do this. He could totally do this. After a second he cracked an eye open.  
  
“How long do I have to hold this for?” he asked.  
  
“Just ten more minutes,” Doctor Deaton told him with a smile.  
  
Stiles groaned out loud and threw his arm across his face. He hid his eyes in the crook of his elbow, wincing through the next ten minutes of steady pressure on his lower stomach. It might have felt like a nice massage if it weren’t for the enema threatening to burst out of him at any second. This wasn’t painful like large volume enemas that made him cramp up, or even soapy enemas that made his hole burn and his body sweat. It was more of a feat of endurance. A brand new twist on the old classic.  
  
Stiles was feeling a little dazed when Doctor Deaton finally stopped. “Alright, that’s long enough. Should I get a bed pan for you, or can you make it to the bathroom down the hall?”  
  
“I can make it,” Stiles said, sounding more confident than he felt. Using a bed pan was just a little too far into the realm of humiliation to be fun for him. They had tried it in scenes in the past, but it didn’t add anything. The bathroom was definitely the way to go.  
  
Stiles carefully clambered off the table, keeping his hole clenched tight. Each movement threatened early expulsion but he did his best to keep the enema water inside. Doctor Deaton helpfully opened the door for him and pointed the way.  
  
Stiles walked on the cold tile floor to the bathroom, hurrying as much as his body would allow. He barely closed the bathroom door behind him when he went inside. As soon as he sat on the toilet, he expelled the enema with a deep sigh.  
  
The bathroom reminded him he wasn’t really in a doctor’s office. Because there wasn’t enough storage space in the back room, Deaton kept an empty cage in the corner of the restroom. On top of it were stacks of kitty litter. Stiles stared at the face of a smiling grey tabby cat on the litter packaging as he rid himself of the water.  
  
That cat had been with him through some rough times. It had been there smiling at him when he sat on the toilet and sobbed, releasing his very first castile soap enema. It had been there smiling at him after his first high-volume enema; Stiles had run, spilling water down the hall, as three quarts of water came bursting from him. That cat had even been there smiling at him when he had to stop a scene and take a break and cry. The week he thought it would be fun to try a colonoscopy without any amnesia. Big mistake. Luckily Alan came in to check on him and comforted Stiles as he cried.  
  
Stiles offered the litter box cat a nod of his head before cleaning himself up. He washed his hands quickly and went back down the hall, eager to return to the scene.  
  
Doctor Deaton was mulling over the Manila folder again. He glanced up as Stiles entered the room and smiled. “All empty, then?” he asked.  
  
Stiles nodded.  
  
“Good, then we’ll move on to the prostate exam.”  
  
“Where do you want me, doc?” Stiles asked. Over the table, bent at the waist? Laying on his side again? Different positions all had their advantages.  
  
“Climb on up here and get in the knee-chest position,” Deaton ordered, patting the steel table.  
  
Stiles’ heart skipped a beat and his cock twitched with pleasure. He went at once to mount the table and get on all fours. Sometimes he wished they had a genuine gynecology chair with the stirrups and everything. Barring that, the knee chest position was the next best thing. Stiles got himself settled with his knees and elbows on the cold steel table and his exposed ass high in the air.  
  
“Very nice,” Doctor Deaton complimented him. “Now that you’re empty and clean, I’m going to insert a few fingers and feel for any abnormalities on your prostate. Just relax and remember to breathe.”  
  
Stiles licked his lips. “Okay, Doctor.” His stomach was fluttering again. Oh, he was so ready for this.  
  
Stiles saw in his peripheral vision as Deaton squeezed a big gob of lubricant onto the finger of his gloved hand. Stiles’ cheeks didn’t need to be parted in this position. All Deaton needed to do was reach back and touch Stiles’ hole. He dabbed cold lubricant onto the exposed pink pucker.  
  
“Bare down.” He ordered but didn’t wait. He pushed his finger deep into Stiles’ body without warning. If it was any bigger or less lubricated it would have hurt like hell. As it happened, it only ached a little to be so suddenly stretched and filled. Stiles actually liked it.  
  
“Doctor-“ he gasped, pleasure rushing through him.  
  
“Breathe,” Deaton reminded him. His finger found Stiles’ prostate and prodded it as he spoke.  
  
As sudden and unexpected as a bolt of lightning, Stiles was coming all at once and completely out of nowhere.  
  
“Doctor!” He cried out, reaching between his legs to clamp a hand on the head of his own cock. He couldn’t help it! The prostate stimulation didn’t even feel that good and it was way too early for this. He just couldn’t stop himself, it was happening. Hot come spilled from his fingers as an orgasm ripped through him. “Fuck,” Stiles rasped.  
  
Doctor Deaton immediately switched from clinically prodding at Stiles’ prostate to stroking it with his finger. Stiles cried out loud. He too switched up his movement and he began to stroke himself, jerky and wild. His muscles all over his body were convulsing with pleasure and he couldn’t quite control any of them. Come kept spurting from his cock, load after hot load of it. He emptied himself into the table, gasping and shuddering until he was done.  
  
“Quite the response to stimulus,” Doctor Deaton muttered thoughtfully, sliding his finger out of Stiles’ body. Deaton was always quick with a clinical comment to bring the scene back to where they wanted it. Stiles was too busy catching his breath to reply.  
  
Deaton shed his lube-covered gloves. He pulled a paper towel from the holder above the sink and mopped up Stiles’ mess. He wiped the come clean from the table. “Lay down there,” he told Stiles. “Catch your breath.”  
  
Stiles folded himself to relax on the table. The cold steel felt good on his flushed skin. He was angry he had come so soon. He hadn’t meant to. It had just been so long since he’d had something substantial like a finger inside of him, pressing deep like that. At least one that wasn’t his own.  
  
After a moment to collect himself he pushed himself up with his hand. He sat up on the table, chest rising and falling heavily but close to a normal rhythm now. “Sorry, Doctor...”  
  
Doctor Deaton had prepared a cup of water for him from the sink. He passed it over to Stiles who took it gratefully and sipped.  
  
“It’s alright, Stiles. It’s a natural response to prostate stimulation,” Deaton told him kindly. “It just means you’re a young man with a good working libido.”  
  
Stiles flushed and sipped again to hide his embarrassment. When he was done he crumpled the paper cup in his hand and tossed it towards the wastebasket. He looked down at himself and his soft cock with a frown.  _Traitor_ , he thought.  _Spoiling the fun so soon_.  
  
“I’m sorry to tell you it isn’t all good news,” Doctor Deaton interrupted his thoughts.  
  
Stiles jerked his head up. “Huh?”  
  
“I got a good feel for your prostate and I have to admit it felt quite enlarged.” Deaton told him.  
  
Stiles felt the stirrings of butterflies in his stomach again. He tried not to smile, but he was excited that Deaton wanted to keep the game going.  
  
“What does that mean, Doctor?” he asked, feigning fear.  
  
“I’m going to have to insert a speculum and stretch your anus open to see further inside.” The words were equivalent to dirty talk for Stiles. “If my suspicions are correct, we’ll need to attack the problem with direct stimulation. A vibratory massage.”  
  
“No,” Stiles whispered in disbelief. “Doctor, I don’t want to.” He knew Deaton liked a little refusal.  
  
“I’m afraid you have no choice,” Deaton told him sternly. Stiles caught the barely-there husky tone in his words. Usually so calm and collected, it was delicious to hear Deaton’s voice dip low with pleasure and want.  
  
Stiles couldn’t quite get hard again, not so soon, but this conversation had sent pleasure tingling all throughout his body. He was keyed up from his last orgasm and genuinely ready for round two. Hopefully his cock would catch up with him. A little more stalling would help.  
  
“Will it hurt?” he asked, looking up at Deaton with his big brown eyes.  
  
“Unfortunately, there will be some discomfort during the procedure,” Deaton told him, barely masking his lust.  
  
God, Alan was so fucking hot when he was turned on. Stiles wanted desperately in that moment to break character and smash their lips together in a heated kiss. Instead he kept his cool, hanging his head in fake defeat.  
  
“I’m ready to begin as soon as you are, Doctor,” Stiles said, acting perfectly reluctant.  
  
“Good. Get back up on the table in the knee-chest position and we’ll continue,” Doctor Deaton ordered.  
  
Stiles did as he was told, getting back in the same position as before. His cock hung limp between his legs this time, just waiting for the refractory period to be over so it could spring back to life. He watched over his shoulder as Doctor Deaton retrieved a shining metal speculum from the cabinet. It was one Stiles knew well. It wasn’t the largest one he’d endured, but it certainly was a beast.  
  
Deaton also retrieved a vibrator he had hidden away for this evening. It was funny-looking. The long, skinny wand was bent at a slight angle and a fat bulb sat on the end. It was dull purple in color and looked awfully smooth. It occurred to Stiles that he had never seen it before, and Deaton had never used this one on him. Was it new? He felt a rush of excitement, and his cock began to twitch with life. This was going to be fun.  
  
Doctor Deaton donned yet another pair of gloves, snapping them in the way Stiles liked. He began at once to lubricate the blades of the speculum over the sink. Lube dripped down the sides of the metal device but he was thorough and careful to cover the speculum evenly. When it was ready, he took position behind Stiles’ prone body.  
  
“Just relax, Stiles. This won’t hurt a bit.”  
  
Stiles took a deep breath in and out, willing away any tension in his body.  
  
“Bare down for me,” Deaton requested.  
  
Stiles did, and instantly felt his hole being filled with cold metal. He gasped. He got a second to sense how big this thing was going to be before it began entering him. Deaton used good steady pressure, pushing the speculum right into Stiles’ body. The lube helped it slide in easy, but he was definitely tighter than he used to be and Stiles could tell. The feeling of being full made him groan helplessly. It felt so good, so overwhelming, so deep.  
  
“Breathe,” Doctor Deaton reminded him.  
  
Stiles drew a shaky breath in and let it out. His cock was growing stiff between his thighs, a slight twinge of overstimulation accompanying his erection. The speculum felt as at home in his ass as a good cock would. Thick, unyielding, and big. Stiles enjoyed the simple sensation for as long as he could before Deaton continued.  
  
“I’m going to apply some pressure and open the speculum now. You may feel some pain,” Deaton warned him.  
  
Stiles braced himself for it and soon felt the handles of the speculum being squeezed. The blades inside of him widened, stretching his pink hole taut. He gasped again, groaning in both pleasure and pain. He liked being stretched wide but damn did it hurt. His hole pulsed, held gaping open by the blades of the speculum.  
  
“Good, we’re halfway there.” Deaton commented.  
  
“Halfway?” Stiles repeated in surprise. “Doctor, I can’t take anymore.”  
  
A long time ago, they had agreed upon how much stretching would be healthy. They set a clear limit on how wide Stiles was willing to go. Deaton wouldn’t push him past that limit, but it seemed as though he was trying to push Stiles right up it. Stiles had been out of practice for months. He wasn’t sure if he could do this...  
  
“Yes, you can,” Deaton told him, kindly patting his behind. “We’re almost there. Take a good deep breath now.”  
  
Stiles drew in a breath, and as he was letting the air out of his lungs the speculum spread him wider. He moaned pitifully, cock pulsing in response. “Fuck,” he groaned. Oh, it hurt. It hurt so much worse that he remembered. He knew Doctor Deaton would never be careless enough to rip him open but that’s sure as hell what it felt like. “Fuck,” he groaned again, fresh waves of pain radiating out from his stretched hole. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”  
  
“There we go,” Doctor Deaton said pleasantly. He locked the speculum into place and unhanded it, letting it rest where it protruded from Stiles’ body. The minuscule movements of these actions were just painful enough that they made Stiles squeeze his eyes tight.  
  
Doctor Deaton waited patiently. Instead of continuing on and picking up the vibrator, he pulled a penlight from his pocket. He shined it into Stiles’ gaping hole and angled the beam from left to right. “You’re looking very healthy internally,” he commented.  
  
Stiles couldn’t quite manage words that weren’t profanity so he didn’t reply.  
  
“Lots of nice pinks and reds,” Deaton told him. He trained the flashlight in at just the right angle, lighting up the prostate he had touched earlier. “Ah, there’s the trouble,” Deaton mused. “Yes, I can see your prostate needs lots of work. Shall we get started?”  
  
The painful stretching sensation had become bearable and so Stiles nodded. “Yes, Doctor,” he breathed.  
  
“Good, just relax.” Doctor Deaton picked up the vibrator, coating it with a minimal amount of lube. The squelching noises made Stiles’ stomach twist up in a knot of excited anticipation. His cock was harder than ever.  
  
The vibrator didn’t even need any lubricant because it passed through Stiles’ stretched opening without even brushing against the blades of the speculum or his inner walls. It wasn’t until Deaton nudged it against his prostate that Stiles felt anything at all. He whined pitifully, craving more sensation. He desperately wanted some pleasure to accompany the dull pain he was in.  
  
Deaton teased him for a few seconds. He moved the smooth tip of the vibrator back and forth over Stiles’ prostate without turning it on. He took his sweet time. Just when Stiles was about to speak up and beg for something more, sudden vibration filled him. He cried out, balling his hands into fists. Pleasure raced throughout his body, warming his core. It radiated in waves from his prostate.  
  
Deaton knew exactly what he was doing. He knew just how hard to press, which movements would illicit the most pleasure, when to ease off and when to apply good steady pressure. He played Stiles like a fiddle, forcing cries and moans and guttural noises from him. He knew what he was doing when he reached between his patient’s legs to stroke his hard cock too.  
  
“Doctor!” Stiles moaned. His eyes rolled back into his skull. A second orgasm overcame him, burning hot fire through his body. He came hard to the feeling of vibrations inside of him and Doctor Deaton’s gloved hand on his cock. Waves of pleasure racked his body making him tremble and cry weakly. Hot come spurted from his cock, what little was left, to mark his release.  
  
“Good,” Doctor Deaton complimented him. “Just a little bit more.”  
  
“No-“ Stiles gasped. His orgasm was fading. He was wrung out and sensitive now, too raw to enjoy the pleasure of the vibrations. “Doctor, enough.”  
  
Doctor Deaton ignored him. He turned up the vibrations with a click of a button and redoubled his efforts, driving home against Stiles’ poor, tender prostate. Stiles writhed painfully, attempting to clench his hole closed or force the invading vibrator away. The speculum kept him open, leaving him vulnerable to Deaton’s continued torment.  
  
“It hurts!” Stiles sobbed, tears welling in his eyes.  
  
Although he never really stopped stroking his cock, Deaton began to jerk Stiles off quite roughly. He had moved past teasing and pleasing to torment, and he knew just how to do that, too. Stiles’ frayed nerves were on fire.  
  
“I did tell you the procedure would cause some discomfort,” Doctor Deaton told him, raising his voice to be heard over the buzzing of the vibrator and Stiles’ own pitiful whines.  
  
“Please,” Stiles begged. “Please, Doctor. Please stop.”  
  
This was all part of the game, of course. In fact, it was Deaton’s favorite part, and Stiles loved to play up his anguish to please him. If Stiles really wanted this to stop he need only utter his safe word. It was there, on the tip of his tongue. He was sure he could endure just a little more, though. Just a few more seconds. It helped to be able to sob and to beg. The hot tears that fell down his face were their own form of release. Not quite as blissful, but welcome all the same.  
  
Stiles soon lost the will to keep begging. The vibrator pressed into him at a new angle. He damn near screamed. A third, pain-wracked and completely dry orgasm tore through him. The pinch of pleasure that proceeded it was followed by overstimulation and pain. His body convulsed and he collapsed on the steel table.  
  
Deaton reacted quickly. He turned off the vibrator and removed it. The sudden silence in the room was deafening and Stiles felt too aware of his own gasping breaths and desperate sobs.  
  
“Easy, Stiles. Let me remove the speculum,” Deaton said.  
  
He unlocked the handles and slowly allowed them to close. Relief washed over Stiles as the pain from being stretched wide diminished. For some reason the feeling of relief made him sob harder. Doctor Deaton slid the closed speculum out with a wet squelch. Stiles’ hole cinched tight but didn’t close completely. Where it had been pink and puckered before, it was now bright red and slightly loose.  
  
Deaton wiped away some excess lube with a paper towel. Even the simple sensation of paper towel against his hole was rough enough to make Stiles moan in pain. Deaton gently patted Stiles’ back, and brought a fresh paper towel up to clean the tear tracks from Stiles’ face. “There, there. You’re all done. The treatment was a great success.”  
  
“Thanks, doc,” Stiles croaked, sniffling a little.  
  
“When you’re ready you can get dressed, and I’ll escort you to the recovery room.”  
  
Stiles closed his eyes. The thought of moving right now made him want to start crying all over again. He did want to go to the ‘recovery room’ though. After a few more minutes of lying there, breathing, recovering from the intensity of all that had happened Stiles pushed himself to sit up. It hurt a little to sit, his hole still ached, but it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be.  
  
With Deaton’s help he got dressed. When he stood up to put on his briefs and jeans, Stiles realized how week his knees felt. He leaned heavily on Doctor Deaton, who ended up doing the hard work of pulling his pants up for him. Stiles felt more than a little useless but he also felt safe in the hands of his favorite doctor.  
  
Together they exited the exam room. They made their way slowly to the break room down the hall. Or, the ‘recovery room’ as they called it during scenes. It was a tiny room without much to show for it. There was a sink and counter with a coffee maker. The fridge in the corner held samples and medicine as much as it held employee lunches. The couch along one wall was a little beaten up and busted but Stiles happily collapsed into it when they reached it.  
  
Deaton draped Stiles’ flannel over his shoulders to keep him warm. The break room was close to the back exit and a cold draft was wafting in. “Alright?” Deaton asked him.  
  
“Yeah.” Stiles nodded, curling up and laying his head on the arm rest of the couch.  
  
“Need anything?” They kept painkillers on hand, and cups for water.  
  
Stiles shook his head. “Can you sit with me?” he requested.  
  
Deaton took up the other end of the couch. He lifted Stiles’ feet and set them in his lap. With one hand he reached out, gently smoothing his palm up and down Stiles’ jean-clad thigh. He didn’t speak.  
  
Stiles closed his eyes. He recounted the evening all in his mind. The humiliating questions about going to the bathroom. The enema and the subsequent abdominal massage he received after it was administered. His overexcitement when he came spontaneously during the prostate exam. He was glad his early ejaculation hadn’t actually ruined anything.  
  
“That was nice,” he said after a long while. “I had fun.”  
  
“You did well,” Alan told him, a kindness in his tone that didn’t quite reach his voice when he was playing doctor. “I missed our doctor’s visits.”  
  
“Me too,” Stiles said, wiggling around onto his back. He looked down the length of his own body to where Alan was sitting at his feet. “I missed you.”  
  
“I missed you, too,” Alan said earnestly. He reached out for Stiles’ hand and squeezed it.  
  
Stiles enjoyed the soft sweetness of the moment before opening his mouth to speak again. “I think I’ll need to set up another appointment for tomorrow, though.”  
  
“So soon?” Alan asked him, raising up one of his dark eyebrows.  
  
“Yeah, you know. A physical. I’m gonna try out for the lacrosse team at college.” A favorite fantasy of theirs, the sports physical.  
  
“Ah, right. I hear college physicals are very thorough.” Alan played along. “They’re even collecting sperm samples these days.”  
  
Stiles couldn’t keep himself from grinning. He was still smiling when Alan rose from the couch, draped himself over Stiles’ body and kissed him sweetly. He tasted so good, better than Stiles remembered. He quickly closed his eyes and deepened the kiss, chasing the taste of Alan’s warm spit.  
  
Deaton broke away after a moment. “Are you up for coming back to my place?” he asked, faces so close together that his breath touched Stiles’ skin.  
  
Stiles nodded eagerly. “I can’t stay over, but I want to go for a little while.”  
  
“Can you walk?” Alan asked him.   
  
“Yeah,” Stiles said, though it might be a different story when he got to his feet.  
  
Deaton rose from the couch. He smoothed out his clothes and then offered a hand to Stiles. Thankfully when Stiles stood up, he was steady. He felt sated but good; pain and overstimulation was a faraway memory. He put his flannel shirt on and followed Deaton out towards the back door.  
  
Deaton paused to look at him. “Where’s your jacket?”  
  
“I didn’t bring one,” Stiles said with a shrug.  
  
“Stiles...” Alan tsk’d his teeth gently. “You know if you catch a cold and have to go to the doctor, they’re not going to do a rectal exam for a runny nose.”  
  
Stiles rolled his eyes. “C’mon, I was in a hurry to get here,” he said in his own defense.  
  
Alan took off his own lab coat and offered it to Stiles. He had a jacket hanging on a hook by the door and he put that instead. Stiles happily slipped the doctor’s coat on, not quite filling it out but almost. It smelled like Deaton’s cologne and a hint of anti-septic. Stiles liked it.  
  
Alan switched off the lights and together they stepped out into the back lot behind the building. After locking up, they headed towards the woods on the edge of the lot. The sickle of the moon gave them just enough light through the trees to see by.  
  
Although plenty of paranormal shit had happened to him in the forests around Beacon Hills, he felt safe in these woods. Stiles had lots of fond memories of walking the path to Deaton’s house. Late summer evenings when everything was green and the bugs were making their noises. Fall when everything was orange and yellow and the crisp leaves crunched under their feet. Once, Alan had carried Stiles in his arms the whole way because Stiles was too wrecked from a scene to walk. That was a good memory too, in it’s own way.  
  
It was a little too cold out tonight to enjoy the walk. Sticks cracked under their feet. Stiles saw his breath in the air. He reached out to take Alan’s hand and hold it. Alan squeezed his fingers.  
  
His house, a cozy split-level, was just a short five-minute walk from the veterinary office. Located on the same sacred ground, it was protected by its own special magic. All at once they came upon it. It hadn’t been visible between the branches a second ago and then suddenly there it was.  
  
Stiles knew it was a protection spell that kept the house unseen. He had tried to ask Alan about it once but a lot of that Druid stuff went right over his head. He just wasn’t magically minded, it seemed. He liked that Alan’s house was a literal hidden secret in the woods. It made him feel like nothing bad could touch him here. That made it an especially comforting place to go after scenes.  
  
Alan let him in the front door. Stiles switched on the lights inside and walked right in like he owned the place. The interior was minimally decorated in tones of browns and tans. Afghans and quilts lovingly made my parents, or possibly grandparents, were folded up over the broken-in couches. Alan probably hadn’t bought a new piece of furniture or decor in a decade, but it suited the place. It was homey and comfortable in here. Stiles liked it.  
  
“I missed your log cabin!” he said happily, passing through the living room straight for the kitchen. Alan’s house wasn’t really a log cabin, but it had the same charm, so Stiles equated them in his mind. “I can’t believe I ever used to complain about your gas stove.” He went over and gave the stove a big hug. “I would do anything for a stove in my dorm.”  
  
Alan, slightly chuffed, only smiled to himself as he took off his jacket and shoes by the door.  
  
Stiles went to open the fridge and his heart swelled when he found it full of his favorite things. He saw several bottles of his favorite flavor of Gatorade. He didn’t really like the stuff that much but sometimes Alan insist he drink it to get his electrolytes up after particularly rough scenes. There were also sodas and other sugary snacks much too undignified for Alan’s refined taste.  
  
On the second shelf, Stiles found a foil wrapped piece of food and his heart skipped a beat. Could it be? The famous Thanksgiving cake? With a recipe so secret Deaton guarded it more closely than half his Druid knowledge. Stiles took the foil out and unwrapped it revealing that it was indeed the Thanksgiving cake: angel food cake and pumpkin filling mixed together in a delicious combination. He moaned happily and started eating it without a fork.  
  
Alan joined him in the kitchen, smirking. “I see you found the Thanksgiving cake.”  
  
“Did you make this for me?” Stiles asked with his mouth full.  
  
Alan shrugged, closing the distance between them. “I remembered you liked it.” He waited for Stiles to swallow before kissing him in the lips. A sugary sweet, pumpkin-flavored kiss.  
  
“Alan.” Stiles set the half-eaten dessert down and threw his arms around the vet’s neck. He pressed his face into Alan’s warm skin, breathing in deep. “I really missed you.”  
  
Alan stroked his back. “I missed you, too. Now stop raiding my fridge and come sit with me.”  
  
Stiles brought the slice of cake with him back to the living room. They curled up together on the couch closest to the heat vent, under a quilt. Alan asked about college and classes and how Stiles was doing in school.  
  
Stiles asked about the town, and whether anything bad had happened while he was gone. Sometimes it felt so stressful to know that dark supernatural forces could be brewing while he wasn’t here to stop them. He trusted Alan and the others to take care of things in Beacon Hills but he also couldn’t help the weird sense of personal obligation he felt. Luckily, nothing bad had happened. A few unfamiliar werewolves had passed through town uneventfully but that was about it.  
  
Stiles asked about his dad. He knew Alan didn’t see him that much but it was better than hearing his dad lie to him on the phone and tell him everything was fine. Apparently, there were some late nights and long hours but nothing Sheriff Stilinski couldn’t handle.  
  
Last but not least, he asked about Alan. He was doing well. Business was fine. He missed seeing Stiles, but he didn’t miss any of the trouble Stiles and his friends brought along with them. Stiles tried not to be too affronted by the notion, though he did feign feeling hurt.  
  
“Me?” He said, sitting up right. “Cause trouble? I would never-“  
  
Alan shut him up with a warm kiss, nipping at his bottom lip. Stiles knew that they wouldn’t last on the couch very much longer. Their warm kisses quickly turned heated. Stiles chased after the taste of Alan’s mouth, hungrily thrusting his tongue in to lick his lover’s tongue and teeth.  
  
He found himself sitting on Alan’s lap, hips grinding against him. Stiles was raw and satisfied from being fucked by Doctor Deaton in the exam room, but that didn’t mean he had tapped out for the night. Alan still hadn’t gotten off yet, and Stiles wanted to repay the favor.  
  
“Fuck me,” Stiles said hotly as he broke their kiss.  
  
“Are you sure?” Alan asked.  
  
Alan was always so wholly focused on Stiles’ pleasure during scenes. He didn’t mind taking care of himself afterwards. He never pushed Stiles into having more sex. Stiles willingly offered it though, or hand jobs and blowjobs when he didn’t feel up for taking anything else up the ass. In the early days Alan had refused, insisting he was asking too much of Stiles, but Stiles had long since made it clear that he wasn’t doing anything he didn’t want to.  
  
“Yeah,” Stiles breathed. “I want you to fuck me. In your bed.” The last bit was an afterthought. The couch was as good a place to fuck as any but Stiles wanted to be in between Deaton’s sheets, surrounded by the scent of him.  
  
Kissing and groping at one another they made their way to the bedroom. Messily undressing, they dropped their clothes wherever. A line of discarded shirts and pants lead the way from the living room to the bedroom door.  
  
Alan didn’t bother turning on the light. In the dim darkness, Stiles could just see the shape of his body. He wasn’t cut like a diamond or anything but he looked good for an older man. It made Stiles moan, thinking of how badly he wanted that that body against his own.  
  
Deaton was the first one on the bed. He made sure to grab a condom. It was pre-lubricated and slid on easy. Stiles didn’t think twice about mounting Alan’s hips. He reached behind himself, holding the condom-wrapped cock in place. He lined himself up and sank down on it, making himself cry out gently. It hurt, but it felt good to be filled. Alan’s breath catching in his throat was especially hot.  
  
Stiles found Alan’s hands. He laced their fingers together, steadying himself. He didn’t move just yet. Instead, he squeezed his insides tight, watching with delight as Alan closed his eyes and groaned. He did that again and again until he felt he was ready for more.  
  
He pushed himself up and lowered himself back down again on Alan’s cock. Stiles was careful not to hit his own prostate. He was still too raw and any stimulation there would spoil the mood for him. Pleased that he had managed this without any pain, he did it again, and again, until he had a steady rhythm going.  
  
Their heavy breathing filled the bedroom. The delicious scent of sweat and sex rose around them. Stiles moaned happily, bouncing on Alan’s cock. He loved this. This simple pleasure of sex, of a hard dick sliding in and out of his body,  
  
“That feels so good,” he moaned. “Alan, you feel so good.”  
  
Just as he was getting into it he felt a sudden shift. Before he knew what was happening, Alan had flipped their positions and Stiles was face first in the sheets. Alan took him from behind, fucking him fast and rough from the back. Stiles moaned helplessly. It was a little more painful like this but he liked it just the same.  
  
“Fuck me,” he moaned. Again, and again he said the words. “Yes, God. Fuck me. Fuck me.”  
  
Alan fucked Stiles hard into the sheets, not stopping until he came, balls deep inside.  
  
They were both sweaty and messy. Stiles was a little more sore now, and he hadn’t climaxed, but he felt a deep satisfaction. It was like a sense of warmth and pleasure that sated him completely. He had made Alan come, and that felt so good.  
  
Alan pulled out, stripped off the condom and politely excused himself to go clean up in the bathroom. Stiles waited patiently for him to return and when he did they cuddled naked in bed together, sweat and scents mingling. Stiles rested his head on Alan’s chest and sighed.  
  
“I don’t want to go home,” he murmured absently after a long quiet while of cuddling together.  
  
Alan stroked Stiles’ short hair. “It’ll be nice to sleep in your own bed,” he reasoned, trying to think of something encouraging to help Stiles stick to his plans.  
  
“I really hope my dad isn’t waiting up. I should have told him I’m staying out tonight,” Stiles said, practically pouting.  
  
“You can tell him you’re staying out tomorrow.” Alan reasoned. “Then you can spend the night here and I’ll have more Thanksgiving cake baked for you.”  
  
Stiles smiled, a guilty little smile, and buried his face in Alan’s chest, breathing deep. He smelled so good. Stiles was so glad they were able to do this.  
  
He stayed curled up in bed until the sweat dried on his skin. Even then he was reluctant to push back the covers. He checked the clock in the wall, wincing to see that it was well past midnight. He didn’t have a curfew anymore but this wasn’t exactly a reasonable time to be out.  
  
“I should go,” he said.  
  
Alan sat up and leaned in to kiss him. “Let me walk you to your car.”  
  
Stiles dressed haphazardly. He went and got a soda from the fridge to chug as he drove. He didn’t feel sleepy exactly but he also didn’t want to doze off on the way home. Alan let him wear his coat, his real coat and not the lab coat, on the walk back through the woods. They held hands along the way back.  
  
When the got to the parking lot, Stiles stopped outside his Jeep, hesitating. He still didn’t quite want to leave Alan’s presence. He stretched up for one final kiss, and then another. Alan obliged each one, kissing back again and again. After the fifth goodnight kiss he finally cracked and laughed at Stiles for being so ridiculous.  
  
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, half as a goodbye and half as a reminder that Stiles didn’t need to be so upset about parting. They would see each other again soon. “Weekend hours; the clinic closes at noon. You can come around for your physical around one.”  
  
Stiles felt a flutter of butterflies in his stomach. “Mm, yes, Doctor.”  
  
He climbed into the Jeep and set off, back to his house. He was careful on the roads, smiling the whole way home. He didn’t even bother drinking any of the soda he had grabbed. He didn’t want the taste of Alan to leave his lips just yet.  
  
Stiles carefully came in through the back of the house when he got in. He tried not to slam any doors and make any of the floorboards squeak. Apparently, he wasn’t as good at sneaking in as he used to be because his dad sat up on the couch, hair all mused on one side from sleeping with his face pressed to the pillow.  
  
“Hey kiddo,” he grumbled, half-awake.  
  
“Dad,” Stiles sighed. “What are you doing down here? Go get some sleep in bed.”  
  
“How was it?” His father asked sleepily, stretching as he stood.  
  
“How was what?” Stiles asked in reply, helping to lead his dad up the stairs and away from the backache awaiting him in the morning if he tried to spend the night on their old couch.  
  
“Y’know, the old stomping grounds? How was it being back again?”  
  
Stiles smiled and shook his head. “Even better than I remembered,” he said honestly.

 

**Author's Note:**

> send requests or prompts ➝ [here](https://curiouscat.me/deathtouch)  
> follow me on twitter ➝ [here](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)  
> thanks for reading ✩°｡⋆


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